379
Rehearsal to Ourselves
Of a Withdrawn Delight—
Affords a Bliss like Murder—
Omnipotent—Acute—
We will not drop the Dirk—
Because We love the Wound
The Dirk Commemorate—Itself
Remind Us that we died.
Finally, to forgo love is to kiss a leaf,
is to let rain fall nakedly upon your head,
is to respect fire,
is to study man's eyes and his gestures
as he talks,
is to set bread upon the table
and a knife discreetly by,
is to pass through crowds
like a crowd of oneself.
Not to love is to live.
To love is to be led away
into a forest where the secret grave
is dug, singing, praising darkness
under the trees.
To live is to sign your name,
is to ignore the dead,
is to carry a wallet
after the Irish of Séathrún Céitinn
Dear one, with your wiles,
You’d best remove your hand,
Though burning with love’s fire,
I’m no more an active man.
Look at the grey on my head,
See how my body droops,
Think of my sluggish blood –
What would you have me do?
It’s not desire I lack.
Don’t bend low like that again!
But love without the act
Must live, slender minx.
Withdraw your lips from mine,
Strong as the inclination is,
Don’t brush against my skin,
I must not think of thee; and, tired yet strong,
I shun the love that lurks in all delight--
The love of thee--and in the blue heaven's height,
And in the dearest passage of a song.
Oh, just beyond the sweetest thoughts that throng
This breast, the thought of thee waits hidden yet bright;
But it must never, never come in sight;
I must stop short of thee the whole day long.
But when sleep comes to close each difficult day,
When night gives pause to the long watch I keep,
And all my bonds I needs must loose apart,
Rena straight like this poem
plainer then it even
you spoke to me in ways
most will never
if i could tell you in words
what im feeling right now
id go on and write you 831 books
or at least one with the title 831
cuz its only 8 letters in it
its 3 words long
and only got one meaning
but the truth of this matter is
i love u and i mean i love u
like that friend you are
that bestie ik you could be
but i got a lil more love like that
like that woman in my life id like
Where silent elms are clustering round
That grey church-tower, which peers above,
She sleeps beneath the narrow mound,
Whom I had loved with brother's love.
The sun, o'er yonder wooded height
Slow-drawing on his evening streak,
Had glanced a ray of rosy light
Athwart her pale and dying cheek;
And while that glorious orb of his
Yet hung—departing—in the west,
Amid a kindred scene like this
Her noble spirit sank to rest.
But, ever since, this westering light,
These purpled hills, that flaming sea,
'Tis done! - I saw it in my dreams;
No more with Hope the future beams;
My days of happiness are few:
Chill'd by misfortune's wintry blast,
My dawn of life is overcast;
Love Hope, and Joy, alike adieu!
Would I could add Remembrance too!
'Once they were lovers,' says the world, 'with young hearts all aglow;
They have forgotten,' says the world, 'forgotten long ago.'
Between ourselves-just whisper it-the old world does not know.
They walk their lone, divided ways, but ever with them goes
Remembrance, the subtle breath of love's sweet thorny rose.
I remember
hiding, crying,
cowering, screaming,
begging God to end my life
I remember
my disappointment
in waking each and every day
and how I cursed his name, in anger
I remember
so many years
wasted in despair
as I died a little each day
I remember
the day I was freed
badly frightened I was
that there was nothing left of me
I remember
falling in love
and finally feeling
that I truly am alive
I remember
what I was before
We dress the boy in an orange cap
and show him how the gun is held.
He looks at his hand.
He likes five women, one in black
and one in yellow, whitey,
pinky, and the naked one.
In all his stories he loses his heart.
We do not tell him that the truth
is just the future, that he’s born
to die, and the love of the lovely
can kill. But we believe it;
he is beautiful, and at the movies
he is what we watch. His eyes
are fixed, his hair still
